


Hindsight

by robinlikeitshot



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Gen, Neglect, Tim Drake-centric, baby timmy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinlikeitshot/pseuds/robinlikeitshot
Summary: He wants to complain. He wants to remind them that they’d promised to be home for his birthday this year, after missing the last two in a row. He wants to say a lot of things. Instead, he replies, “Yes, Mother.”She doesn’t tell him where they’re going. He doesn’t ask.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 168





	Hindsight

**Author's Note:**

> found this when I was cleaning my docs, and it seemed angsty enough to post  
> . a load of thanks to allen over @dumble-daddy at tumblr for betaing~  
> enjoy:)

Mother is upset. Tim knows this because he saw a reporter talking about Drake Industries’ archeological investigation in southern Argentina falling through yesterday on the news.

He knows this because the front door opens with an uncharacteristically loud bang before his mother’s heels click on the expensive tiles.

He knows this because, despite Tim’s efforts to scrub the house from top to bottom in preparation for their arrival, her sharp eyes still catch every single stray particle of dust.

Tim knows this because, after four months of minimal contact with her son, his mother’s first words to him are- “What are you wearing?”

He hides his flinch by looking down at his clothes. A pressed light blue shirt with dark jeans and oxfords. He can’t fathom what was wrong with it.

Still, he only bends his head and replies softly, “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll go change immediately.” Better to face a minor inconvenience than to deal with the brunt of Janet’s anger directed solely on him.

His mother doesn’t spare more than a glare - at him or his clothing, Tim’s not sure - before she’s dropping on the couch with a huff.

He turns around, posture stiff as he carefully walks out of the room. A minute later, he’s staring in his closet with an expression of bafflement. He tries to think as carefully as he can and ends up picking a formal white button-up with a pair of black slacks. He’d put on a belt too, but all the ones he has are too big on him, and he’s not really sure how to bring it up to Mother. He can’t think of anything wrong with his shoes, so all he does is give them a quick shine before forcing himself to leave the relative safety of his bedroom and go down to the living room.

Both his parents are in there now, Jack having brought in their suitcases, and Tim can smell the stink of alcohol coming off of him from ten feet away. He has a drink in his hand, and Tim isn’t surprised. His dad always drinks when a deal falls through or his mother’s angry.

As he steps into the room, his mother’s eyes land on him, and he holds his breath till she nods her head and indicates for him to sit down. His dad doesn’t move.

Once he’s settled on a too-big armchair, spine straight and feet not touching the floor, his mother tells him why they’re home two weeks earlier than planned.

“We’re going on another trip, Timothy, to make up for the loss that the last one’s calculated risk landed us in.” She crosses her legs and sniffs. “We’re scheduled to leave tonight, and we will be gone for two months at the least, possibly three if the site proves fruitful,” she informs him clinically.

He wants to complain. He wants to remind them that they’d promised to be home for his birthday this year, after missing the last two in a row. He wants to say a lot of things. Instead, he replies, “Yes, Mother.”

She doesn’t tell him where they’re going. He doesn’t ask.

They go into their room and Tim goes to his, clutching the stuffed bird he’d purchased in secret close to his chest as he tries to ignore the muted arguing from down the hall.

When his parents’ door opens, Tim gets up, hides Robin underneath his mattress, and walks to the front door to meet them.

“I hope your journey is successful, Mother.”

“Hm.” She eyes the wrinkles in Tim’s shirt, and he fights not to smooth them out. “See that your history grade remains up, Timothy. I expect your quarterly report to be sent by the time we return, and I will be disappointed to see anything less than an exemplary.”

“Yes, Mother.”

He accepts her cold nod for what it is and tries not to wince at his dad's too-heavy hand mussing his hair with a gruff, ‘see ya, son,’ as he watches them walk out the door.

Tim watches as they get in the car, and he watches as they drive away. Then he turns around and climbs up the stairs to the roof and stretches on his tippy-toes to see if he can still see them. He can’t.

He can see the stars though, bright and actually visible this far away from the thick smog of the inner city. Tim sits on the rooftops for a while, counting the names of as many constellations as he can, and giving new ones to those he can’t remember. The one with the pointy ears is Batman, and the one with the lines that look like long hair is named Batgirl. The one right below them, though, the one with the crescent moon of stars that look like the brightest smile in the universe is Tim’s favorite.

He names it Robin.

  
***

Tim’s parents leave for Haiti that night. Tim gets the news in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> :(


End file.
